Lullaby
by doctorwarren
Summary: Olivia tends to a late night feeding and thinks about the anniversary of her death and everything that has happened ever since. Angst!Fluff I guess.


Big thanks to Sadie (Queequg417), for proof reading and giving me great writing insights. As they say you don't know how good it is to have a beta until you get one. This story has been inspired by one of Sadie's drabble, so even more kudos to her.

* * *

"_Life began when I saw your face_

_And I hear your laugh like a serenade_

_How long do you wanna be loved?_

_Is forever enough, is forever enough?_

_How long do you wanna be loved?_

_Is forever enough cause I'm never, never giving you up."_

_Lullaby – Dixie Chicks._

* * *

Olivia turned her head to watch the lights on the baby monitor flash as the sound of soft whimpers filled the room.

Peter raised his head instantly beside her and she tapped his arm gently, "I got it."

Olivia was already awake anyway. Having spent the whole day tense and heavy-hearted , Olivia's body begged for rest, but her head refused to give in.

Peter mumbled a sleepy thanks and Olivia slipped out of bed, the headache that never quite leaves her throbbing above her eyes. They were better now, but they were at their worse during her pregnancy. And whenever she couldn't get enough sleep, they'd come with full force. Compliments of the head trauma she had had, Walter had guessed, thanks to the bullet in the middle of her forehead exactly a year ago that day.

Etta's whimpers became full-out wails, and Olivia gave a feeble smile as she lifted her daughter's chubby body off the crib. She was five going on six months old and her little legs, arms and cheeks had acquired a nice layer of fat. She was very different from the baby she had been when she was born.

Her pregnancy had been awful, partly because her migraines kept her from eating properly or functioning normally causing her to feel extremely exhausted and mildly depressed, second because her emotions had been in such a state of upheaval, her nerves so frazzled that her body was having a hard time staying healthy and growing a human being at the same time.

So much so that she ended up giving birth four weeks early to a baby that didn't even make it to six pounds. Thankfully, her daughter was strong, a survivor, as Peter would always say, a Dunham.

Etta's wails died down as soon as Olivia picked her up, so Olivia decided to do a quick diaper change before feeding her. Once the baby was clean and dry, she picked her up and rested her on her shoulder, patting her back gently as she carried her to the rocking chair.

Peter normally insisted on doing this job, he'd get up, change her and bring her to Olivia and then take her back once she was done so Olivia could save some energy and not have to fully wake up. She let him because she knew he wanted to be involved. But truth was, she enjoyed doing it, having her baby to herself so late at night when it was all quiet, just the two of them, no interferences of any kind. Olivia could pretend everything was normal, everything was ok, and that everything was going to forever be ok.

Olivia sat down and let Etta hungrily wrapped her little mouth around her nipple sucking happily and rubbing her sleepy eyes. Looking at her nursing like that, it was hard to believe how hard it had been when they had started. No matter how hard she tried, Etta just wouldn't latch on properly. She'd fall asleep on the breast or just suck hungrily and then give up frustrated unable to get enough out. The nurses said that, unfortunately, it was normal with babies for born early to have trouble learning to nurse and that she should keep trying.

For days after Etta was born, Olivia would either be awake trying unsuccessfully to breastfeed her or staring at the clock knowing that the baby would be awake any moment and she wasn't going to be able to feed her again, not to mention the moments fear would grip her heart and force her to go check if her daughter was still breathing. It had been quite frustrating and it had dumped a bucket of ice cold water on Olivia's frail hopes of being a good mother. She had had no idea such a natural thing as breastfeeding would be so hard to achieve. And it only served to reaffirm all her concerns that she wouldn't be able to keep her daughter safe, that she wasn't going to be there for her when she needed her.

Her days were filled with migraines and hiding to let out her own tears at her failure, her frustration, her fear for her daughter's health and safety , her inability to deal with all the emotions running wild inside her hormonal body, and her lack or reasonability coupled with her inability to ask for help.

Peter of course had been amazing, a natural father from minute one. Etta had looked so tiny in his long arms. It had been her favorite place to nap and it still was. Olivia was yet to admit it to anyone, but she had felt incredibly jealous, not just of the immediate bond their daughter had with her father or of Peter's amazing parenting skills, but of how easy it was for him to just enjoy her, to not worry, to not fear that the worst was coming.

That fear had been plaguing Olivia since she found out she was pregnant, exactly a year ago. During her pregnancy it had consumed her quietly. Once Etta was born the dam had been opened and the fears became ghosts that haunted Olivia day and night, keeping her from doing what Peter did so easily: love their daughter.

It wasn't until Etta was six weeks old that things changed. Olivia had been home walking around the house bouncing a screaming baby in her arms, her own tears running down her face, when Peter came in for the rescue. He had picked up Etta and once she had quieted down, he had bent down to rub his nose against hers causing her to burst into laughter for the first time in her young life. That was when Olivia realized she was spending more time worrying about her baby than actually making her feel loved. And she loved her, she loved her with every breath she took, sleeping or awake, she loved her to the point it was painful.

The moment she first held her in her arms, so tiny and frail, it was like a switch had been turned inside her, and every cell in her body had woken up to love her baby*. The purpose of her being, her mission, right in that moment had become nothing else but to protect and love that child. That adorable little being with such long fingers and toes, a button nose, heart shaped lips, and eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day.

Once she was done, Etta pulled her lips away from the nipple and smiled contently at her mom, her eyes heavy lidded seemingly in a drunken stupor caused by her favorite drink.

Olivia smiled back. Her heart was so full that her eyes welled up, she dimmed down the lights and started rocking the chair, softly singing a lullaby that her mom used to sing to her.

"I see the moon

The moon sees me

Shining through the old oak tree."

She held Etta close and watched as her baby's eyes slowly closed. She took a deep breath and appreciated the moment, feeling her solid weight in her arms, seeing Etta's chest rise and fall, her mouth drop open and her eyelashes flutter.

She thought about how tense she had been all day remembering what had happened a year before. Etta had been growing in her womb back then, and she had been unaware. A year ago they had both almost died. She was lucky enough that even after she resurrected, her unborn child made it, considering how she had an enormous amount of a powerful drug in her body, or how she had been used to power up the end of world, or simply how she had crossed over to another universe while jumping from a helicopter. Etta could have easily died a fetus, and Olivia would have never known what life was like with her.

Now, she couldn't begin to imagine her life without her.

Once again, her eyes welled with tears as she thought of the uncertain future they had ahead of them. They were coming, she didn't know when, but they had been warned. And if they had been coming at any other time in her life she would've been more than ready to die fighting, but now she felt paralyzed by fear. Fear of a life in which she didn't get to see her baby girl become a woman.

Olivia bent down, smelled her baby's head and placed a kiss on top of her head, closing her eyes and allowing the tears to run down her face. She watched her daughter's angelic face and sent a prayer to whomever, or whatever power was listening that she'd never have to leave her. She'd do anything to please, please watch her daughter grow. She'd never ask for anything else, but for her daughter to never have to grow without a mother, without a family.

And even after Etta drifted off, she kept rocking, and praying, and singing.

"Please let the light shine down on me, shine down on the one that I love."

* * *

A.N.: I just want to have you know two things. One is, I'm an au pair to a wonderful little girl who I have been with since she was three weeks old (she's now four). I saw her mom go through a very hard time seeing all her dreams of being a mom become a harsh reality. Most of Olivia's struggle with breastfeeding described here, are based on hers. Two, I also love my Pumpkin to death and I have had a few moments in our lives together when I ran the risk of having to go back to my country and never see her again (it's complicated and has to do with family and immigration laws). The moments those fears were looming over my head, I'd sit with her on her rocking chair lulling her to sleep and I'd sing lullabies my mom taught me, and once she was asleep I'd cry and pray really hard that I'd have the chance to see her grow, to always be close to her somehow. I'll have you know I'm not a very religious person, but my despair was great and I was trying everything. So when I read Sadie's(Queequg417) drabble (It's called 'Isn't She Lovely), I immediately remembered that, and this idea came (and I just happened to have heard the Dixie Chicks song the day before). I hope you enjoyed this and I hope it wasn't too depressing. It's a story about love after all.

*Shamelessly stole this line from Alyson Hannigan in her interview with Ellen Degeneres about motherhood.


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